


I Can Still Make Cheyenne

by trulywicked



Series: Teen Wolf Drabbles [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Still Werewolves, Angst, Breaking Up & Making Up, Hales Live, M/M, Rodeo AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 13:02:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2389220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trulywicked/pseuds/trulywicked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles really just wanted to stay home and nurse his broken heart. Erica had other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Still Make Cheyenne

**Author's Note:**

> Kate doesn't exist in the AU, therefore the Hales are alive and Derek is not completely emotionally or verbally constipated.
> 
> This is a little longer than my usual drabble form for this series but it took on a life of its own.

"Stiles your little black rain cloud is actually starting to flood my corner of the universe."

"I am so sorry that my heartbreak is detrimental to your appreciation of Boyd's ass in Wranglers Erica," it was dry and a little snippy, "but if you will _recall_ I didn't want to come with you."

"No, you wanted to stay at home, curled into a little misery ball until you drowned yourself in it. It is our duty as your friends to drag you out when you're wallowing. Forget the constipated ass, you’ll look back on his dumping you as a good thing-"

“Erica!” Scott’s voice was a hiss of reprimand.

Stiles looked over at Erica, “I want you to consider what you just said and then I want you to imagine yourself in my position and someone telling you to be _glad_ that Boyd dumped you.” He nodded at her instinctive step back, the way her hand rose to rub over her heart without conscious thought, “Yeah. I’m going to go get some popcorn. I’ll see you in the stands.”

He wandered off to the concession stand, weaving through the throng of Stetson wearing Wrangler clad asses of the rodeo crowd. He usually liked coming to the rodeo with Erica and Scott, liked coming to cheer Allison and Boyd on in their events, but not when he was nursing a broken heart. Goddamn Derek Hale anyway. Breaking up with him because Stiles nearly had a panic attack and then tore a strip off the bastard for stepping in front of a maniac bank robber with a loaded gun.

God he could still hear their argument screaming in the back of his mind. Still hear himself calling Derek an idiot, hear Derek claiming it was a well calculated risk and his own response of it being reckless idiocy without any sort of calculation at all and that he couldn’t take it if Derek did things like that. It had terrified him to see Derek step in front of the muzzle of that gun, to see him coolly and calmly baiting that madman. What person wouldn’t be scared and angry when the person they loved more than anything showed so much disregard for their own life.

He’d figured that they’d yell it out, Derek would promise not to do something so fucking stupid again, and then they’d have a make up snugglefuck. He hadn’t expected Derek to break up with him, to just say ‘Then it’s over.’ and walk away. He didn’t even know how to get in touch with Derek to drunk dial him and call him an asshole either. He’d met the asshole while Derek had been visiting his family in Beacon Hills and tumbled down into love so fast and hard he could still feel the thud.

So fast and hard that he’d completely forgotten to get basic contact information or what Derek did for a living because he’d been too busy spending every minute of two months he possibly could with Derek. He’d like to be able to say it had just been infatuation and really, really good sex but he’d sought Derek out more often than not just to sit and talk about stupid things, like Derek’s dumbass opinion that the Star Wars prequels were actually good movies, or even just to be there enjoying silence. Him, Stiles Stilinski, Beacon Hills’ biggest motormouth nervous babbler actually _enjoying_ silence. 

If that wasn’t love...well then people had screwed up definitions of love because Stiles was living proof you could fall in deep, abiding love with someone in under two months, and subsequently also get your heart shattered into itty bitty jagged pieces in that amount of time. He _really_ wanted to be at home licking his wounds, and maybe trying to get up the courage to approach the Hales for Derek’s number, not in Fresno carrying popcorn and soda and red vines to the rodeo stands.

He sat down next to Scott then felt Erica’s hands sliding over his shoulders, her pressing her forehead to his crown in silent apology. He gave her a red vine as a show of acceptance as the opening ceremony started.

Even miserable he still enjoyed watching the events, and especially enjoyed Scott’s eternal enthusiasm on Allison’s behalf. His best buddy flailed and cheered, sending popcorn everywhere as Allison and her horse Arrow ran, and won, the barrel race. Erica was fun too, standing on the bench seat and whooping as Boyd wrestled a steer to the ground. Stiles was almost regaining a little cheer when the final event, bull riding, started. Then halfway through he was rocked right down to his foundations again at the name announced.

“Derek Hale!”

Stiles’ breath caught and held as a bull tore out of the gate with a body he’d know any fucking where on its bucking, twisting back. He held his breath for the eight seconds of the ride, eyes wide as he followed the flow of Derek’s body moving with the violent jerks and centrifugal force the bull created. God _damn_ the bastard was beautiful and damned good at what he did because he rode out the eight seconds smoothly then hit the ground running.

The clowns distracted the bull as usual while Derek made the run to safety but before he got there Stiles saw him look up and freeze. The hat shadowed Derek’s features but Stiles could feel that gaze punching him in the gut, just before the bull shook off a clown and went right for Derek. Apparently Derek saw or heard some cue because he managed to dodge out of the way just enough to avoid a deadly goring though Stiles saw the bull’s horn hook into Derek’s arm before he got completely away.

The cheers and gasps and everything else faded into the background and Stiles got to his feet and walked away, not bothering to even acknowledge Scott or Erica’s worried cries of his name. He needed air.

\---------------------------------------------------

Derek tossed his ruined, bloody shirt into the trash and wiped the blood from his already healed skin. What had _he_ been doing here? Had his family told Stiles how to find him? And why would Stiles have come even if they had? It didn’t make any sense after the reaction Stiles had to him distracting the bank robber for the other man to come here to watch him in one of the most dangerous sports in the world.

He was well acquainted with how very little tolerance a lover had for seeing or even knowing that their significant other made a living by pissing off nearly two thousand pound animal with sharp horns. Two years ago the woman he’d once thought he might reveal his secret to and marry had broken things off over the phone the day he called to tell her he was about to head back after losing the short go. Paige had been a good woman, a solid, steady woman and though she hadn’t been his true mate, he’d loved her very much. She’d just been too solid and steady to put up with long absences and occasional stark terror.

Derek had promised himself never to get involved with anyone again until he was ready to retire from bull riding. That promise had been blown all to hell the second he’d walked into the Beacon Hills’ answer to Starbucks and literally run into Stiles Stilinski. Everything had clicked into place in that once instant. His wolf had risen to the surface and howled _’Mine.’_ when whiskey brown eyes had met his. He hadn’t been able to help himself and rushed headlong into bed and a relationship with Stiles. It had been perfect...until the bank robbery.

He’d stood there, listening to Stiles rip into him for his recklessness, to his anger trying to mask the rapid heartbeat and sour scent of an oncoming panic attack, and known he couldn’t do this. He wasn’t ready to give up bull riding but he also couldn’t put his mate through such fear and pain every time he rode out to a competition. So he’d ended it, glad that Stiles didn’t have his contact information.

So why was Stiles _here_ then?

A brief knock came on the door then Vernon Boyd, one of his rare werewolf friends on the circuit came in.

“ _You’re_ the evil bastard my mate’s been trying to find to rip the balls off of and shove in a blender?”

“What?” Derek blinked.

“Stiles, he’s friends with my mate. Has been for years. And apparently you’re the ‘heartless, scumsucking, sweaty ballsack’ that stomped on his heart with a texas two-step. Eri’s really, really pissed off at you for hurting Stiles.”

“I...think I’m confused.”

“Obviously. Stiles is your mate isn’t he? I could smell it even over the crowd and animals when you saw him in the stands.”

“Yes,” Derek admitted.

“Then why the hell did you break up with him?” Boyd’s eyes narrowed, “Oh it’s the Paige thing again isn’t it?”

“Not...completely. After the bank he just...if you’d heard his heartbeat and smelled-”

“Impending panic attack, yeah I know. He gets them from time to time. But even if he didn’t, what you did in the back is a lot different from your job bonehead. To a human you didn’t let know that you’re impervious to regular bullets anyway.”

“It’s no-”

“Derek we have safety precautions in place, regulations, rules, and safety gear in the arena,” Boyd said with a frown, “That crazy guy would have had nothing but his own morals preventing you from taking a bullet, morals he didn’t have, and Stiles watched you stepping right in front of a deadly weapon, no safety gear, no vest, without knowing that a regular bullet wouldn’t kill you. It’s two _completely_ different situations. On top of that, Stiles knows about werewolves so you can tell him and-”

“He _knows_ about werewolves?” Derek said incredulously.

“His best friend is Scott McCall. I’m pretty sure you mother’s mentioned Scott and his pack.”

"The True Alpha?" Derek asked a little weakly. Stiles had talked about his best friend of course, he'd just never imagined that 'Scott' was the True Alpha Scott his mother allied with to make Beacon Hills untouchable.

"That's him. He's a complete goofball whenever nothing's trying to take a bite out of Beacon Hills or one of his pack. Stiles is his emissary."

"Shit." Derek was beginning to see just how badly he'd fucked up.

"Oh yeah. He's out by the bronco pens, go grovel."

Derek barely took the time to grab a tank top and put it on before he went dashing out to find Stiles and apologize.

\----------------------------------

Stiles hearda boot crunch behind him and looked over his shoulder to tell whoever it was that he just wanted a little peace and quiet. Then he frowned hard seeing Derek standing there, in those jeans too tight for decency and an illegally exposing tank top, and a completely uninjured arm. It didn't take him long.

"You _asshole_ ," hissed, "You're a werewolf!"

Derek nodded, waiting for Stiles to hit him, hex him, or throw something at him, "Yes."

"That's why you said it wasn't dangerous! You fucker! You dumped me!"

"I...you were so upset, I didn't want you to get that scared every time I went to work."

"Vastly different situations! Plopping your ass down on a bull in a professional capacity with safety gear and stepping in front of a bullet without anything to protect you from flying lead are two vasty different situations!" Stiles was pacing and flailing, "But I wouldn't have freaked out of you'd mentioned 'Oh hey I happen to be a werewolf. Yes I got the gene from my Mother and am full furry.' instead of just standing there like a rock, letting me freak out so badly you felt the need to _dump_ me."

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"Oh in so many ways. Now what?" Stiles said, planting his feet and crossing his arms across his chest, glaring at Derek.

"Give me a second chance? Even though I don't deserve one?"

Stiles stalked forward, coming to a stop close enough that their chests were nearly touching, one deep breath and they would be, "You fucking _hurt_ me."

Derek couldn't help the mournful sound her made or the way he reached for Stiles, wrapping him in an embrace, "I know. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry."

"Bastard," Stiles muttered, "I don't know why I love you." He cupped Derek's face in his hands, "I was gonna chase after your rank ass soon as I got up the balls to contact your Mom about you being a jerkface. Now...well I guess you're just gonna have to chase _me_ ," he said, bringing Derek's face to his for a hard, biting kiss.

He managed to slide out of Derek's hold just as Scott and Erica found them and he smirked, walking towards Scott. "Catch me if you can."

Derek blinked, his mind still reeling from the kiss, then slowly grinned. If he could? Oh he would, and it would be sweet.

**Author's Note:**

> I do take prompts, for any pairing slash or het, that is not parent/child incest. If you have a prompt for me you can slip it into [my inbox](http://trulywicked.tumblr.com/)


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